


The Jefferson Affair

by jj_unfinished



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (not really it kinda stinks but! i tried), Angst, Blackmail, Cheating, F/M, Feels, Infidelity, Modern AU, also a lot of swearing, angry hamilton, but alas, hot take on the reynolds affair, poor everyone else tho, pride and sex get the better of you, treason??, which is almost worse than cheating on alexander, you are a FOOL and think that telling the world what happened will fix the situation, you basically sell washington out, you just point out how stupid and naïve you are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 01:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16734213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jj_unfinished/pseuds/jj_unfinished
Summary: You wake up to a naked Thomas Jefferson. How did this happen?? You're political enemies? And what about your boyfriend-- Alexander Hamilton? But you forget about all of that when Jefferson suggests you continue your indiscretions. Until the guilt gets to you. Jefferson threatens to inform your boyfriend unless you give him some political information. So you sell out your beloved Washington rather than Hamilton find out. But then your emails are discovered and decide to publish your account of the situation. Because you're an idiot.





	The Jefferson Affair

You woke up to a headache and someone holding you. You opened one eye to sneak a peek at who it was, fully expecting it to be your boyfriend, and you couldn’t stop the strangled scream that left your mouth when you realized who it was lying next to you, naked. It couldn’t be. Not when...no, this had to be a dream-- a nightmare.

It was Thomas fucking Jefferson. In the nude. Holding you, one of his biggest enemies and girlfriend of his even bigger political enemy-- Alexander Hamilton.

“Mm, morning,” he mumbled, ignoring your distress and holding you closer. 

You tried pushing him away and he frowned, easily holding on with his much stronger arms. You were fucked. Literally and figuratively. You gulped, running out of hungover ideas to get away. How did this even happen?? You two hated each other, how did your friends even let you near him while you were drunk? And where was Alexander?

“Thomas,” you hissed. “Let go of me!” 

He let out a whine but let you go. Not in a million years did you think you would hear Jefferson whine. You couldn’t help but wonder what sort of noises he made the night before….stop that!!

You were broken from your thoughts by his hand brushing against your cheek. You jerked away instinctively, not expecting the hurt look on his face when you did so.   
“Did I hurt you last night, darlin’?”

Why was he being so weird? You were enemies and you had a boyfriend who was his even bigger enemy. 

“I don’t-- I mean, how did…?”

Thomas sat up, copying how you were resting against the headboard, although the sheet was barely covering him while you had it clutched in your fist, holding it against yourself. “Well, when a man and a woman like each other very much--”

“We hate each other, Thomas. Remember? All the slander in the newspapers and personal memos and television and radio and literally everywhere? God! Please tell me we didn’t fuck.”

He smirked and you felt your heart stop for a second. He remembers everything. Shit.

“You sure did like me last night, what with your mewling and begging for my cock. And lordy knows you weren’t saying Hamilton’s name when I made you cum,” he said in a low voice, making you shudder. The events of the night before came flooding back at the thought of calling out Thomas’ name. The club. The shots of tequila. The obnoxious magenta coat he was wearing. The cab ride back to his apartment. Fuck. You needed to stop thinking about all of it. It was making you dizzy, it was so vivid. 

You swallowed before you spoke, trying to think clearly through your headache. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I have a boyfriend. We’re political enemies.”

“And we fucked. You seemed to forget all about those things last night, sweetheart.” And he smiled. He had the audacity to smile that stupid toothy grin at you as you were floundering. 

“Nobody can know. Not Madison, not Burr. Especially not Alexander. Please,” you hated to beg, but honestly what were you supposed to do? “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t tell anyone.”

Everyone knew that you and Alexander were the power couple of D.C. Everyone. And there was no way that you could withstand a scandal in this city. 

“Anything?” he practically purred at you. You felt sick, but nodded. “I want to see you once a week.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I have a hotel room on stand-by at the Hilton. What do you say?”

You balked. “You want...are you proposing we have an affair?”

He shrugged. “Call it what you want. I just know that there was something there last night and I know you felt it, too. You can’t leave me wanting more, (Y/N).”

You thought for a minute. You did have a mind-blowing experience the night before. It was hot and sensual and amazing. But at the same time, you had to work with Thomas. Or, rather, against him. And then there was Alexander...if he ever found out….but here you were, not saying ‘no’.

“And no one will find out?” You watched as Thomas crossed his heart. You chewed on your bottom lip. You were in a very good relationship with Alexander. But he was often more in love with his work as Secretary of the Treasury than with you, Washington’s head speech writer. And you deserved a little fun in your life, right? And last night had been a lot of fun. So, you found yourself saying: “I’ll see you Thursday night.”   
\--------  
So you slipped back home to find Alexander sprawled out on the bed, half-clothed. Yeah, there was no way he remembered the night before. So instead of crawling into bed like you had planned, you made some calls to clear your schedule on Thursday night. Without thinking you had come up with the lie that you needed a night off, considering that weekend would be extremely busy for you, as the president was going to be making several speeches across a few states. You just conveniently had planned this night off the same night that Alexander was going to a big dinner with his political allies. Thank God the Secretary of State hadn’t been invited. 

And so things were uneventful leading up to Thursday. You still kept up the anti-Jefferson banter and wrote for Washington like you were employed to. Except you tried your best to be the best girlfriend possible to Alexander whenever you two had the opportunity to interact (out of guilt, knowing what you had done and planned to do). He would have been suspicious if he didn’t have so much on his plate. 

And Thursday night came. You were careful to cover your tracks, using cash and a taxi instead of your personal car or your card. You gave a fake name for Thomas to sign you in under. And his lips were on yours as soon as the door locked behind you.

You made sure to leave before Alexander would be done with his dinner, much to Thomas’ dismay. He was hoping to ravish you all night long. But you promised him there would be next week. And there was. For five months.

Until the guilt caught up with you after having sex with Alexander one night. He commented that you didn’t seem to enjoy yourself as much as usual, were you just tired? You had told him you were. But really you had been comparing his actions one-for-one with Jefferson’s. When Alexander fell asleep that night, you grabbed your phone and sneaked out of the bedroom. You had to call things off with Thomas. 

“Mmm, baby girl, I thought we weren’t meeting until tomorrow night?” He sounded as though he had just woken up. It was late.

“Thomas. We need to end things.” You were blunt.

There was a pause on his end. “Fine.” There was a chill in his voice that made you shiver. 

“Thomas--”

You were cut off by the phone hanging up. 

What had you done?  
\--------  
The next day, Jefferson was on a warpath. He had called for a cabinet meeting over Alexander’s proposed debt plan a week sooner than Washington had scheduled. It got quite heated and the president had called for a recess that landed Alexander in your office, ranting about how idiotic Jefferson was. You had started to argue back with him, coming to Thomas’ defence, when you got an e-mail notification, the sender information blank. Curious, you clicked on it, the subject titled “IMPORTANT.” 

As Alexander kept ranting, not noticing that you had gone silent, you read the body of the email. And as you did so, your blood ran cold. 

Dear, (Y/N),  
I hope this correspondence finds you well. Upon your termination of our indiscretions, I have but two options. The first being that I inform Secretary Hamilton of our weekly meetings over the past five months. The second, which you may find more appealing, is the request of speeches before they are handed over to the President. If you are willing to assist me in my endeavor, BCC me on the email to the President his next speech. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to tell your beloved Hamilton what happened while he was busy running the country.  
Best,  
T. J.  
Your head was spinning. Alexander couldn’t find out. If Alexander found out, then Washington would know and then you would end up losing your job and your boyfriend. And your home and your friends and the trust of everyone you knew. Damn, Jefferson. 

Alexander continued to babble as you drafted the email to the president about his speech for Tuesday. Your heart was beating as you BCC’d Jefferson and hit ‘send’. 

What had you done?  
\--------  
This had gone on for two months, the president being slammed at every turn for his positions presented in his speeches. You worked harder to write the best content you could, but with Jefferson in on the content even before it was delivered, and therefore any media he felt like selling out to, you were doomed from the start. 

The president had expressed his concerns to you and you promised to work harder at securing the speeches, even going as far as to hand-deliver them to his secretary. But you still had to give them to Jefferson. Not when there was a chance that he could let Alexander know what had been going on earlier in the year. 

You felt like you were going to be stuck letting the president down for the rest of your career until you were called into a meeting with some of Washington’s closest advisors.  
Shit.  
“Mr. Vice President...Mr. Secretary...Senator...what is this?” 

“Close the door behind you, (Y/L/N). Please, sit.”

You sat at a lone chair facing the three of them. This wasn’t going to end well, was it?

“We have the copies of your emails, sent from separate accounts.”

“All to one recipient...”

“To Secretary Jefferson on every occasion the President has had you write a speech since the press picked up steam against him.”

“Is that what you have?” You laughed. “Are you done?”

“You are uniquely situated by virtue of your position.”

“Though virtue is not a word I would apply to this situation.”

“I can almost see the headline, your career is done!”

“You don’t even know what you’re asking me to confess, you have nothing, I don’t have to tell you anything at all...Unless…”

“Unless?”

“If I can prove that I didn’t willingly engage in disloyalty against the President, do you promise not to tell another soul what you saw?”

There was a pause.

“Um, yes?”

You pulled your laptop out of your messenger bag and opened up the email, handing it over for the gentlemen to read. You heard them whisper to each other, but couldn’t make out what was said. 

“Gentlemen, is my evidence to your satisfaction?”

They looked from you to the screen and back. You tried your best to show no emotions, despite your racing heart rate and worry that this wasn’t going to pan out.

“My God.”

“So?”

They all shared a look. 

“The President won’t know what we know.”

They handed back your laptop and started to gather their things. You stopped the Secretary of Defense by grabbing his arm. 

“Sir, how do I know you won’t use this against me the next time you and Hamilton go toe to toe?”

“(Y/N), rumors only grow. And we both know what we know.”

And they left the room, leaving you alone with the knowledge that at least three people knew and were under the impression that you had willingly traded information about the President to Jefferson. Full well knowing he was your political enemy. That meant if anyone else found out about the emails that they would assume you had been disloyal to the President. Fuck. 

You had to do something about this.  
\--------  
You wracked your brain for a solution to this sticky situation. On one hand, you could let it go and your political career would be ruined. On the other, you could expose Jefferson for blackmail. But that meant also exposing your affair with the Secretary of State. But your career…

You had no choice. 

So you booted up your laptop and began to write.   
\--------  
“Mr. President, you wanted to see me?” Hamilton asked, poking his head into the Oval Office. Washington motioned for him to come in and he shut the door behind him. As Alexander approached, he noticed that the President looked...upset? Uh-oh. “Is everything all right, Mr. President?”

“Hamilton, have a seat.” Alexander hesitantly sat in one of the leather chairs in front of the President’s desk. “Have you seen the news?”

“No, sir, I’ve been looking at financial reports all morning. Has there been something said from England about the tariffs? Are they going to--”

“Hamilton.” Washington interrupted and spun his computer monitor around for Alexander to see.

There was a headline on The Washington Post entitled “The Jefferson Pamphlet: Washington Speech-Writer Admits to Affair with Secretary of State, Accusing Him of Blackmail.”  
The world seemed to go in slow-motion as he read the article. It was a tell-all. An explicit first-hand account of the events of the weekly meetings. He was in shock. He had been so blind to the fact that you were cheating on him every week while he was at the office or business dinners. He thought it couldn’t get any worse until he got to the section “Blackmail in My Inbox.” Not only did you describe that he was in the room when you received the email, but you complied. You gave him the speeches. You willingly participated in the exchange of political information in order for Jefferson to sell it to the media to run down the President of the United States. You basically participated in treason. All because Thomas Jefferson was threatening to expose a sexual affair. He could have handled the cheating. He could have worked through it. But giving Jefferson those speeches and then telling the entire world just to prove that you acted because he was blackmailing you? Alexander didn’t think he would even go that far.

“Mr. President...I don’t know what to say.”

The President turned his screen back to face himself. “I would like to express my apologies to you, son. You had to find out that your girlfriend was unfaithful after essentially the entire news-consuming world.”

Hamilton just shook his head. “Sir, that’s not what has me upset-- (Y/N) gave Jefferson those speeches. She committed treason!”

“Son,” Washington attempted to calm his right hand man down, “She was blackmailed. Secretary Jefferson broke the law.”

“And she broke your trust!” he couldn’t help but yell. 

The President sighed. “And she broke yours as well.”

Alexander suddenly stood up, heading for the door. “Excuse me, sir.”

“Hamilton!” Washington called after him, but he left anyway. He was determined to find you. Ask you how could you. Ask why you betrayed the last two people on your side.  
\--------  
You had locked yourself in your office just before eleven. That was when you had decided to send the email to The Washington Post. You had already contacted their chief editor about a story pertaining to the recent information leaks and the Secretary of State. Of course they were interested. But they were not expecting what you sent in. A 9000-some word exposé on you and Jefferson. What you thought would be the right thing for your career. 

It was published just after the top of the hour. You refreshed the paper’s website and immediately closed the tab once you saw the headline pop up in bold type. In fact, you turned off your phone and your computer and took your phone off the hook. You closed your blinds and sat in the room, listening to the knocking at your office door, the calls for you to answer. The threats to call the President. You knew they were empty. As if the President would want to see you right then. You were waiting for him to show up.

You jumped when you heard his signature knock. It was sharp and fast and made your heart skip a beat. 

“(Y/N), answer the door. I know you’re in there, open the goddamn door,” Alexander demanded. To put it lightly, he sounded pissed. You willed yourself to sit still, to put off seeing him but found yourself opening the door, him rushing in and you locking it quickly behind you. 

“You,” he snarled. “You sold out the President. For what? Jefferson?! You think the chance of our relationship ending was worse than being accused of treason? You think that would have been worse than losing your job? And any potential career in this building? Did you really think that I wouldn’t find out eventually? That someone would think to check your emails? And did you really think that telling the whole fucking world about the affair would distract from the fact that you complied with Jefferson? Really, (Y/N)?”

“I-- Jefferson blackmailed me, Alexander. You read the article. You read what he did,” you tried, hoping he would be able to see it from your point of view.

“You could have told me. You could have told Washington. You didn’t have to betray the President-- betray me,” he said, his voice hard and icy. You felt about two feet tall. “No, (Y/N), you didn’t think about any of that. You were too concerned about your damn pride. And I thought I was bad.”

You started to speak but he stopped you. 

“No, don’t say anything. There’s nothing you can do to fix this. Forget about Jefferson. Forget that he was just as wrong as you, (Y/N). You had a choice and you made the wrong decision. Now you have to live with the consequences.”

There was a tense silence, him glaring at you and you holding back tears.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. If you were really sorry you wouldn’t have done any of this. You wouldn’t have betrayed our President, your friend, and you wouldn’t have broken my heart.” He made for the door, but stopped with his hand hovering over the doorknob. “You know what, (Y/N)? I hope that you burn. I hope that you burn all the way to Hell. And I regret giving my trust to you. Good luck to you and Jefferson-- leave me off your Christmas card list.” 

And with that he was gone, the door wide open, people streaming in, all with their own opinions on what you had revealed to the world. But you just stood there, like a shell of your former self. 

You thought you had done the right thing. You thought that this would save your career by placing the blame on Jefferson. That everyone would see how terrible and manipulative he was. 

But the only person’s opinion that really mattered to you was Alexander’s. 

And he just walked out of the door. 

Have you ever seen somebody ruin their own life? Because that was what you had just done. 

Fuck.


End file.
